“We weren’t introduced to bees until someone
overheard them and mistook their drone
for a schoolboard meeting. Naturally she didn’t
bother getting any closer because those days
the talk at school board meetings may have sounded
grand but it all boiled down to using less art
to paint more arithmetic. The bees, we’d discover later,
were miniature flying lions. Sure, their growl
was small but they were on to something. Our engineers
sketched the kind of motors we’d need to achieve
the same flight patterns and quickly kiboshed
the idea when they realized they needed cosmic dust
from somewhere like the ring of Saturn to achieve
the bees’ dizziness. It was the long talks they’d have
with out flowers we were curious about.
The way they rubbed their paws as if the plan
they were hatching with the marigolds was delicious.
Or diabolical. Later, when we tasted their honey,
we realized they weren’t flying lions at all
but small winged gospels sent to sweeten out tongues
and instigate a new flowering kindness in our talk.
In this way, they were hugely responsible for compliments
and the beginning of our population boom.”